Loveswept Read online

  “I’m no better than you are.”

  “That’s a lie, and you know it,” Augusta spat out. “Who needs a sister who steals a girl’s beau?”

  “Augusta, he is not your beau.”

  Augusta narrowed her eyes. “He would have been, if not for you.”

  “Really? Professor Tobias hasn’t promenaded with you, eaten dinner at our house, or asked to court you,” Cecily pointed out with as much gentleness as she could.

  “Maybe not. But can’t a girl dream?” Augusta sat upright and sniffled.

  “Of course a girl can dream. What upsets me is that you think I would ever come between you and someone you wanted as a suitor. You know I would never do that.”

  Augusta blew her nose into the cotton handkerchief she had balled up in her fist. “I know.” She sniffled. “I–I suppose you might be right.” Her voice grew stronger. “Why, you must be right. It’s plain to see he prefers you to me! How can he not? Obviously, he finds your singing and playing much more elegant than mine could ever be!” Augusta’s sobs began anew. She laid her face in her open hands.

  Cecily sat beside her sister and placed a consoling arm around her shaking shoulders. Trying to argue logic with Augusta in her state of heightened emotion would be folly indeed, but she had to say something to console her. “Don’t be silly,” she whispered.

  “It’s true!” Augusta pushed Cecily’s arm away. “He still wants to teach you music. What am I supposed to do on lesson day now? Sit in my room and listen while you sing him love songs?”

  “Love songs? Now I know you’re mad!” Cecily laughed at the mere thought.

  “It’s not funny!” Augusta crossed her arms.

  “I know it isn’t. I just can’t imagine—” Cecily couldn’t contain a fresh wave of giggles.

  “I see. You don’t think Professor Tobias is the least bit handsome, or charming, or witty, or. . .or anything!”

  “He isn’t worth defending.” Cecily rose to her feet.

  “Isn’t worth defending! The love of my life isn’t worth defending? How can you say that?”

  Cecily sighed. No answer she could think up would be acceptable to Augusta when she was in such a state.

  “Well?” Augusta prodded.

  “I’m sure he has his good points, but I promise you, I have no interest in Professor Tobias beyond what he can teach me in music.” Cecily raised an eyebrow. “And come to think of it, the only reason I take music lessons is to sing and play a little for our friends.”

  “Apparently he doesn’t seem to think I’m even talented enough for that.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it like that.”

  “Maybe not, but no matter how you read what he wrote in his letter, he still thinks you’re much more talented than I am.”

  “No, he doesn’t.” Cecily realized her weak argument would not convince anyone. She had a thought. “But he thinks quite highly of you. He said so. He even said you are a ‘delightful girl.’ ” Cecily felt an inner surge of triumph swell in her chest.

  “Why don’t you just quote the letter outright? Obviously you’ve memorized every word,” Augusta hissed.

  Cecily’s perceived victory dissolved, leaving her feeling empty except for a feeling of resentment toward the music instructor for being the cause of strife between herself and her sister. “No. No, I haven’t.”

  “Not that I blame you,” Augusta retorted, her words showing all too well that she had ceased to listen. “What girl wouldn’t like such compliments?”

  Cecily shook her head and tried to make Augusta understand. “I don’t enjoy any so-called compliment that comes at the expense of my sister’s happiness.”

  Augusta pouted.

  Cecily took her sister’s hands, still moist from tears, in her own. “Say, why don’t I tell Father I won’t be taking lessons anymore?” As soon as she uttered the words, Cecily regretted them. She needed coaching on a few of the difficult notes on the hymn she wanted to sing as a solo in church the following week. Without her teacher’s help, she’d never get over the rough spots.

  “You won’t?” Augusta looked into Cecily’s eyes. Her face shone like the morning sun. “You mean, you’ll stop taking lessons altogether?”

  Cecily swallowed. Either Augusta had forgotten about Cecily’s solo and how nervous she felt about it, or she was simply pretending the next week had slipped her mind. She stalled, hoping Augusta would let her take back her impromptu offer. “I would have to think of something to say to Father. He’ll be disappointed.”

  “Do you really think he cares one way or the other whether we take music?” Augusta let go of Cecily’s hands and rose from the bed. She looked out the window, but her face was blank, as though she didn’t see anything. “Perhaps he would look at our discontinuation as one less worry and expense.”

  “I don’t think he sees it that way.” Cecily watched Augusta to see if she would relent, but she did not. Cecily could see she needed heavy artillery. “You know how much church means to Father. Why, he would be mightily vexed if we didn’t sing solos and duets on Sundays anymore.”

  Augusta turned to Cecily. “What do you mean?”

  “Without Professor Tobias to help us practice, how do you think we can keep singing?”

  Augusta placed her hands on her hips. “Surely your confidence isn’t that weak, Cecily. You’ve been taking lessons for two years. Why, I’m sure you could sing the entire hymnbook in your sleep, if you had half a mind to.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Augusta sat down at her vanity and began rearranging her comb and brush, even though their order was acceptable by any standard.

  Cecily sighed. Augusta was deliberately ignoring all reason. How could she change her mind now? She stood up as though the motion would give her strength. “I suppose I can let Father down easily, somehow. And they’ll just have to do without me at the next recital, that’s all.” She tried not to wince. Cecily had been practicing a difficult piano sonata for months in hopes of pleasing her parents with a fantastic performance in the annual music recital in June. She visualized herself deteriorating from a show of harmonious notes to the sounds of a toddler’s first attempts at hitting the ivories.

  Obviously unaware of Cecily’s inner turmoil, Augusta jumped from her seat, reminding Cecily of a little girl on Christmas morning. “Thank you, Cecily!” She embraced her sister. “If I had to sit all alone, listening to you sing and play for Professor Tobias, why, I couldn’t bear it. I just couldn’t bear it.”

  Cecily broke the embrace and sent Augusta what she hoped was a smile that didn’t betray her regret. Her sister was worth the sacrifice, wasn’t she?

  ❧

  Averil slid into a pew near the front of the small church, a building of gray stone that was the closest place of worship within walking distance of his boardinghouse. He had passed it at least ten times during the past week. Observing the sign stating the church’s name and denomination, the pastor’s name, and the appointed hours of Sunday school and worship, he had made a mental note to attend services that weekend. In fact, he was earlier than the nine o’clock hour for worship, giving him plenty of time to select a seat.

  The church interior appeared as he expected. Dark burnished wood abounded. He found the darkness comforting, reminding him of his home church.

  “Sit up front every Sunday, Son,” Father always said. “Let everyone see you at church. It’s good for business.”

  Wherever he happened to be, Averil attended church, but not for the reasons his father suggested. Though a Christian and a moral man, the senior Kingsley seemed to lack the fire and conviction Averil felt. Yet Father saw to it that his children never missed a service. For that, Averil would be eternally grateful.

  A creature of habit, he favored sitting on the far, left-hand side of any place of worship. Ignoring the right, he searched among the remaining polished mahogany pews for an empty place. The front had a few spots, but he wasn’t ready to be that conspicuous in his attenda
nce. The second was full, but the third pew was nearly empty. He made his way up the left-side aisle and took a place at the end of the pew. Additional worshipers were pouring in by this time. Some chatted among themselves, while others meditated.

  Eager to observe his new surroundings, Averil studied the stained-glass windows. The one he sat beside, a formidable and colorful work of art, pictured John the Baptist baptizing the Lord Jesus in the river, with the dove of the Holy Spirit hovering over both men. A brass plaque proclaimed, “In Memory of Roger Swathmore, from his loving wife, Matilda.”

  Each side of the sanctuary had four stainedglass windows. Each one depicted a well-loved Bible scene. He was sitting too close to the front to see them all, but he viewed those within his peripheral range with wonder: Jesus with the children, Moses on Mount Sinai, the women at the empty tomb. Each window brought the scenes to life. Ostensibly, every window was donated in memory of a deceased loved one. Averil couldn’t see well enough to read all of the brass plaques.

  Having taken in his surroundings, Averil thought that if the service lived up to its setting, this little church might be his home for worship until he left Richmond. He let out a satisfied sigh and opened his Bible. He would read Psalms as he waited for the service to begin.

  Averil’s relative solitude proved to be short-lived. Soon the pleasant scent of gardenia and the rustle of a Sunday dress interrupted his reading. He cut his gaze to the right and saw none other than Miss Cecily Eaton.

  Cecily!

  She was walking toward him, ready to sit beside him right on the same pew! He scooted over to the left so that the side of his arm touched the end. Although he tried to act as though Cecily’s unexpected appearance had no effect on him whatsoever, he let out a shaky breath.

  The day he first saw the regal young woman, when she opened the door to him so he could demonstrate his pneumatic carpet renovator, he had thought her the most beautiful being on the face of the earth. Today she appeared even more ravishing. The hat she wore was a large pink affair, covered with white-and-pink roses on its brim. Wisps of light brown hair hung near her heart-shaped face, framing perfect brown eyes flecked with gold, cheeks the color of newly blossomed pink rose petals, and skin as white as fresh cream. The pink dress she wore suited her and the spring day well. The vision of her left him feeling awestruck.

  “Miss. . .Miss Eaton,” he managed to stutter. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” she answered.

  Did averted eyes mean she suffered a sudden attack of shyness? Or was she simply acting the part of a lady? Politeness dictated that he not meditate upon his speculations too long.

  “Mrs. Eaton. Miss Eaton.” He nodded to Cecily’s sister. What was her name? He couldn’t recall.

  “Good day,” the younger Miss Eaton answered, while her mother sent him a chilly nod.

  “Mr. Eaton.” Averil nodded.

  “Mr. Kingsley,” Mr. Eaton responded with a smile. Averil felt a surge of relief when he noted the warmth in his tone. “I had no idea you were attending our church.”

  “This is my first time here.”

  “And you sat in our pew?” Mrs. Eaton’s eyebrows shot up.

  Averil felt a flush of embarrassment. Did she think he had made a deliberate attempt to sit beside her family? He gave himself a swift mental kick for not reading the nameplate on the back of the pew. He knew the custom well. The family that donated a pew sat there forevermore.

  “I did not think to read the nameplate beforehand, but I am delighted by this coincidence,” Averil said without the slightest bit of exaggeration.

  “As are we,” Cecily assured him.

  Averil tried not to smile from ear to ear. Perhaps Cecily was just being polite, displaying the impeccable manners with which she was bred.

  “Will you be attending Sunday school class after the service, Mr. Kingsley?” Cecily asked.

  “Why, yes, I was thinking about it.”

  “Don’t just think about it. Come to my class with me.” Her eyes sparkled.

  “They. . .I mean, the others in your class, they won’t mind?” He knew his voice sounded too eager, but he couldn’t contain himself.

  “Of course not. Why would they mind?” she asked. “We always welcome new people.”

  “Or,” suggested Mrs. Eaton, “you might consider one of the other classes. I do believe the gentlemen’s class is discussing stewardship.”

  “Stewardship.” Did she think he was a poor steward? Or was Mrs. Eaton just hoping he would take the hint and find his way to another class, away from her elder daughter? He decided on a noncommittal answer. “A fine topic indeed, Mrs. Eaton.”

  Mrs. Eaton sent him a satisfied nod. “A topic any one of us would do well to investigate.”

  “You are most welcome to join us, Mr. Kingsley,” Augusta piped up, “but you probably wouldn’t like our Young Misses’ class. We’re talking about ‘How to be a Beautiful Woman.’ ”

  “Somehow I doubt that subject would apply to Mr. Kingsley,” Cecily pointed out.

  “Thank you for your vote of confidence on that matter.” Averil was pleased when his feeble attempt at humor was rewarded by Cecily’s delightful giggle.

  Cecily’s look of encouragement, which seemed to override her mother’s message, pleased him even more. “Mrs. Jones promised us we’d talk about the merits of virtue in connection with newfangled moving pictures.”

  “One cannot be too virtuous in this day and age,” Mrs. Eaton said.

  “Yes. The new century upon us brings so much promise and so much temptation.” He wished he hadn’t used the word “temptation.” Cecily was sitting much too close. The scent of gardenia on any other woman would have seemed ordinary, but on Cecily it seemed like none other than the aroma of heaven itself. Self-conscious, Averil shifted away from her, but not enough as to appear rude, he hoped.

  “Indeed, there is so much temptation today,” Mrs. Eaton agreed. “A virtuous young man must do everything he can to avoid even a whiff of scandal. Especially if he is to succeed in business.” She looked down her nose at him.

  “My father would agree with you most heartily, Madame.” Averil hoped the mention of his father would provide him with the proper opening to give them more information about his roots—namely, that Averil Kingsley Sr. owned the Capital Duster Company. Perhaps then, she might not be as disdainful of Averil’s presence in Cecily’s class.

  “Indeed. I’m sure your father is a fine man.” Mrs. Eaton opened her Bible and began reading.

  “He must be, to have reared such a levelheaded young man as you are,” Mr. Eaton interjected.

  Averil sent him a grateful smile. Perhaps Cecily’s father wasn’t as adverse to him attending his daughter’s class as his wife seemed to be.

  Averil had no intention of pressing his attentions upon any young woman whose mother seemed opposed to such a relationship. Yet when Cecily shared the hymnbook with him, leaning just a bit more closely than necessary, suddenly her mother’s opinion didn’t seem to matter.

  Five

  Just before Mrs. Watson struck the first notes on the pipe organ, Cecily fought the urge to invite Averil to her class once more. She had already been too forward, and Mother’s admonishing looks sent in her direction didn’t ease her guilt. Surely Mother was thinking of nothing but Delmar Williams, the man she had selected for Cecily.

  Cecily could read her mother’s mind. Mother was wondering how Delmar would feel if he knew Cecily shared a hymnal with another man. Well, Mother would just have to wonder. At that moment, Cecily didn’t care.

  A chill ran up her spine. She didn’t usually act this way around men. What had come over her?

  Cecily didn’t have to give Averil a second glance to know exactly what had come over her. In spite of the adventure with his machine and Mother’s rug, in spite of his being at least a head shorter than she was, in spite of Mother’s hopes for a match with Delmar, in spite of the fact that Averil’s position as a door-to-door salesman would no
t meet Mother’s standards—in spite of all this, Cecily’s heart went flitter-flutter when he was near.

  What was it about Averil Kingsley, purveyor of the Capital Duster Electric Pneumatic Carpet Renovator? Certainly his sparkling eyes and pleasing personality attracted her, but there was something more, an indescribable element that made her want to draw closer. Indescribable or not, she wanted to be near him, to find out more about him.

  “You’ve chosen a wonderful day to join us,” Father whispered to Averil.

  Cecily sent her father a grateful smile. At least someone in her family welcomed Averil.

  Father’s grin grew broad. “Our very own Cecily will be singing a solo.”

  Averil took in an audible breath. “I did choose a great day to worship in this sanctuary!” He turned his attention to Cecily. “I shall look forward to hearing you, Miss Cecily.”

  Oh, no!

  Cecily’s heart throbbed. In her excitement of seeing Averil again, then her dismay upon remembering Delmar, she had forgotten all about her solo! Averil had never heard her sing. What would he think? How she wished she hadn’t agreed to stop taking music lessons with Professor Tobias! If only she had practiced with him at least through the end of the week. She was shaky on the high note, and now she would have to sing with Averil in the congregation. If only she hadn’t let Professor Tobias talk her into trying a challenging song, a song that might be easy for a professional singer but with a scale that hit the top of her limited range. Oh, foolish pride, the force that convinced her to take on more than she could handle with ease. She prayed that the Lord would overlook her madness and somehow let her get through her hymn without a mistake.

  Cecily worked herself into such frenzy that she barely heard the announcements and opening prayer. Her solo was slated to follow the offering. Normally she enjoyed listening to the organ solo, but this time she blocked out the music and rehearsed her own song in her mind. She closed her eyes and pictured herself delivering the song without missing a single note. Perhaps that would work.

  Augusta’s reassuring hand pressed hers. Cecily opened her eyes to see her sister nodding in approval. So Augusta thought she was praying. Pangs of guilt assailed her. If her sister knew her real thoughts, she wouldn’t be so admiring. Cecily felt more ashamed than ever.